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climb on my back, then I climb on yours,              the grass here to catch us in our crash landings, ... On Waking Up the Next Morning with Back Spasms & A Cracked Rib for Rob K.   I want to align my ... a limber kind of trust I wish I had with my own seesaw heart.              Can I just for once stop ...
Eve Wood
Incarnate; The Ledge Print Pages:  Page 520 from Issue 110-111 Eve Wood Incarnate My father ... believes he was Anton Chekhov in a former life; my mother says he does sometimes wake up nights reciting ... orobe" which means the moon hangs low above my head. I can't help but think that doing great ...
The Hungry After my father fell through a loose brick in the parapet of a Rajasthan fort, the ... wires stopped, so I began planning my return home when my computer science professor said, Go see Exxon ... with my rubber blade after washing their window shields. It was beautiful on rainy days, the puddles ...
Page 20 from Issue 15 men, not like Simon. I would like to write him a letter telling of my love, ... or of some other emotion that is positive and healthy. Not like Simon and his poetry, which he ... is Simon's language that comes back to me, caught in my head like a bad song, it is always ...
two. A book flaps pigeonlike, and closes. My fourth-floor neighbors couldn’t make the rent. The sky ... knows where they went. Their TV crashes to the grass, the cracked screen sprays a spittle of glass. This ... 15, 2016 Poetry Issue 149 Share Tweet ...
Victoria Chang
crash. I might hear my own voice. 55 Issue 126 page Victoria Chang Monday, October 1, 2007 Poetry Issue ...
windowless, climate-controlled GCA room. The copilot of Hanson's plane changed radio frequency. The ...
Page 10 from Issue vol1-no2 scene is all slither, flux and chaos, as in "Colloquy in ... Their greenness. They are blind- blind to the road And to its Maker. Here my father saw The leadman trip ... against a pigpen, crash, Legs spread, his codpiece split, his fiddle smash... The disorder of society at ...
Ryan G. Van Cleave
The Danaides Print Pages:  Page 515 from Issue 110-111 Ryan G. Van Cleave The Danaides My father ... The part I like best is justice, how it crashes in like a creaking shrimp boat, its catch, these ... forry-nine throats during sleep. Now these women labor endlessly Issue 110-111 page Ryan G. Van Cleave Poetry ...
You gave me all of time and space, At play in the mirage of arts Is my poor soul's ... Khodasevich construction: a scene of tranquil beauty is cut short by questioning; the poet's function ... would be singed on the stoves, / As everyone listened to my poems." This would seem to be ...

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